You're Not Alone
by DeanGirl4ever12
Summary: Bromancy aftermath of the season/series finale. NO SLASH, ever! Rated T to be safe.


**Author's Note: My first foray in Battle Creek and hurt/comfort... *ducks* Hopefully it's okay... Italics indicate thoughts and underlined italics indicate dreams. I've read it through a few times, but it has not been beta read so sorry in advance for any errors!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek. If I did it would NOT have been canceled!**

* * *

Detective Russell Agnew strode purposefully down the long white hallway, coffee in hand. As he reached his destination, he heard voices coming from inside the hospital room. "-look good. You should be able to go home in two days." Came Dr. Fletcher's voice. Russ paused just outside of the door to listen.

"Look, Doctor, I feel fine. There's really no reason for me to stay here any longer, I can rest just as well at home." Milt said insistently.

"Agent Chamberlain, unless you have someone who can stay with you, I cannot in good conscience release you." Dr. Fletcher replied firmly. Milt looked down and nodded, sighing in resignation. Russ rolled his eyes and entered the room.

" _I can't believe I'm about to do this."_ Russ thought exasperatedly. "Don't worry Doc, I'll stay with him." Russ spoke up as he walked up to the bed containing the injured man. Both heads whipped around to face him. Russ looked at the two surprised faces staring at him. "What? He's my partner, it's part of the job description to watch each other's backs." Russ defended. Milt narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion, while the doctor carefully studied Russ before he nodded in consent.

"If it's acceptable to you, I'll go get the paperwork." The grey-haired man informed them, looking questioningly at Milt. Milt looked at Russ for another moment before giving a short nod of assent. "I'll be back shortly." He said as he exited the room, leaving the other two men in silence.

Milt finally broke the standoff. "What are you doing, Russ?" He asked wearily.

"I told you, man. I'm your partner; I've got your back." Russ replied easily. Milt looked down and Russ couldn't help thinking how much he looked like a kicked puppy. "Look, buddy, I know we've had our differences, but I MAY have come to think of you as a friend. And if you tell anyone, and I mean ANYONE, I said that I will deny it." Russ elaborated, rubbing his neck in discomfort. Milt studied his face before quirking a smile and nodding once in acceptance.

"Understood. And, thank you." Milt replied with a small smile, sincerity and gratitude written on his face.

Russ waved his hand in dismissal. "I'm sure you'd do the same."

Both men looked up as the doctor reentered the room carrying a sheaf of papers. He gave Russ the care instructions and Milt his discharge paperwork. "Read those carefully and sign these forms and you should be good to go in about a half an hour." Dr. Fletcher informed them.

Milt looked over the papers in his hand, then up at Russ. "Could you go get the overnight bag I keep in my office? I would rather not have to wear this any longer than I have to." Milt requested, gesturing to the hospital gown he was wearing. "No offence, Doctor." He added hastily, glancing over.

Dr. Sullivan smiled. "None taken. I think everyone feels that way."

Russ rolled up the papers and saluted to the doctor. "Thanks, doc. I'll be back in a little to pick him up."

* * *

When Russ entered the room exactly twenty-nine minutes later, Milt was sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd been disconnected from the IV and heart monitor and he had a sling lying next to him. Russ handed him the bag. "You, uh, need any help there?" He asked, _really_ hoping the answer would be a no.

Milt shook his head quickly. "No, I'm good." He assured.

Russ gave a small sigh of relief. "I'll be just outside. Let me know when you're ready to go." Five minutes later, Russ heard his name being called in a slightly shaky voice. He hastily reentered the room and found Milt leaning unsteadily against the bed, his face pale, but clothed in a black t-shirt and jeans with flip-flops on his feet.

Milt held up the sling in his right hand. "Could you…?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure." Russ replied, taking the sling. "Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see. Special Agent Milton Chamberlain in flip-flops." Russ teased as he helped the injured agent settle his arm in a comfortable position. Just as he finished adjusting the strap, Dr. Fletcher walked into the room carrying a prescription bag, followed by a nurse pushing a wheelchair.

Dr. Fletcher handed the bag to Russ. "There are instructions for these in the care sheets I gave you earlier. If there he experiences any fever, nausea, unusual pain or if he tears any stitches, bring him in immediately." The doctor instructed him before turning to include Milt in his next statement. "However, I sincerely hope that I won't see either of you again anytime soon." He said with a smile.

"Thanks, doc." Russ said, shaking the doctor's hand.

Milt nodded and also shook the doctor's hand. "Thank you, doctor."

As the doctor exited the room, Russ turned back to Milt and clapped his hands together briskly. "You ready to get out of here?"

"More than ready." Milt replied.

The nurse started to wheel Milt down the hallway to the main entrance and exit. "I can take him the rest of the way." Russ offered.

The nurse smiled apologetically at him. "Sorry Detective, but I'm afraid it's hospital policy." She informed him.

"Ah, no problem. I'll just go pull the car up." Russ replied as he walked past them and out of the sliding glass doors.

Two minutes later, Milt sighed in relief as he saw his Escalade pull up to the curb. He hadn't been looking forward to trying to fit his tall frame into Russ' tiny car. Russ left the engine running as he went around the side to help Milt into the passenger's seat. After he was settled, they bade goodbye to the nurse who waved before she turned around and headed back into the hospital.

Russ looked over at his injured partner who was attempting to fasten his seatbelt one-handed. He reached over and clicked the strap into place. Milt opened his mouth to thank him, but Russ interrupted before he could get a word out. "You need anything before we head back to your place?"

Milt shook his head. "No, I'm good, thanks."

Russ nodded, and they drove away from the hospital. Five minutes later, he glanced over to check on the younger man, only to find him dozing against the window. Russ turned back to the road and his thoughts turned inward.

When he'd first met Special Agent Milton Chamberlain, his initial impression was of a cocky, big-city, hot-shot who loved the spotlight and lived to make him look bad. But over the months Russ had known the man, he'd come to realize that there was more to Milt than most people, including him, had thought. Originally, he'd seen a naïve, far too trusting **idiot** who'd never been exposed to the horrors that a job in law enforcement inevitably came with at times. An incredibly arrogant agent who thought he was better than a lowly, small-town police detective just because he was FBI and had all the latest toys. At first, he'd hated him.

But as time went on, and he inadvertently gotten to know _Milt_ , not just Special Agent Chamberlain, he'd found a man who simply wanted to do the right thing and truly believed in the job he was doing. A friend who was incredibly loyal to those he cared about. Despite himself, Russ had actually started to like and trust the man. Then, there'd been the attempt on the agent's life and Milt had shared the true story about why he was Battle Creek. Russ had learned that Milt wasn't as naïve or even as _okay_ as he seemed. In reality, he was more like Russ than he ever would have guessed.

He looked over at his passenger again and found that the subject of his musings was still down for the count. Sure, they'd had their disagreements and differences, but in the last few months he'd also had more fun with his job than he'd had in long time. Milt had pushed him to confess his feelings to Holly and to take a chance with her. He smiled as he thought of her. She was the smartest, sweetest, most beautiful woman he'd ever met and he felt like the luckiest guy in the world to have her.

Milt let out a small sound of pain as the tire hit pothole, but he didn't wake up. Russ' thoughts sobered as he went over the events the events that led them here. Did Milt really think that little of his own life? The idea disturbed Russ more than a little and he decided then and there to do his best to help his partner through this; to show him that he was worth far more than what he could do as a federal agent. He realized with a start that he'd come to care for the younger man as more than just a colleague, but rather as a friend or even a pesky younger brother. _"I've gone soft."_ He said to himself. Surprisingly, the thought didn't bother him as much as he thought it would've.

He shook himself out of his musings as he pulled up outside of Milt's apartment building. "Hey, Milt. We're here." He called to the sleeping figure next to him.

Milt blinked blearily, "Wha…?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

"We're here." Russ repeated as he turned off the engine.

Milt looked around. "Oh, right. Thanks for the ride." He said, unfastening his seatbelt and opening the door.

Russ hastily got out of the vehicle and ran around just in time to catch Milt as he stumbled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He demanded as he steadied the injured agent.

Milt looked at him in confusion, "Going inside?" He said questioningly.

Russ rolled his eyes, "No shit, Sherlock." He replied sarcastically. "And I'm supposed to be looking after you. I'd hate to have people thinking that I can't handle such a simple job." He joked lightly as they entered the apartment.

Milt's face went carefully blank, "Well, I'm fine. Don't let me keep you. Thanks for the ride." He replied stonily.

Russ was taken aback. _"What just happened?"_ He wondered silently. "Milt, you're not keeping me from anything. I said I'd stay with you and help you get back on your feet and I fully intend to do exactly that. Now, what's wrong?" He informed him, not unkindly.

"Nothing's wrong. I guess I'm just tired. I'm gonna go lay down for a bit. Make yourself at home." Milt replied, heading to his room with a defeated slump to his posture.

Russ watched him go with concern, but decided to give him some time and space. For now. He took Milt's invitation; setting the keys on the counter, taking off his shoes, and hanging up his jacket and tie. He looked at the clock. 1:51PM the glowing numbers informed him cheerily. He entered the kitchen and did a quick recon of the fridge and cabinets. He decided to make a vegetable beef stew to go along with the loaf of fresh bread he found on the counter. As he was chopping vegetables, browning meat, and adding spices that gave off a savory aroma, he thought about Milt's reaction.

It could be he was just tired or the bullet wound bothering him, however, Russ couldn't help but think there was more to it than that. Maybe he simply wasn't used to having people who cared for and about him. _"Or,"_ Russ thought, realization dawning, _"he thinks I'm here because I_ _have_ _to be here or out of some sense of duty. He probably still thinks that I don't like him. And why should he?"_ he mentally berated himself, " _I've given him no reason to think that I see him like a little brother, not just some random FBI agent invading my turf. I'll just have to knock some sense into that thick head of his."_ With that thought he turned the stew down to a simmer, went into the living room, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV, content to wait to implement his plan until Milt woke up.

* * *

About three and a half hours later, Milt wandered sleepily into the living room, a surprised look crossing his face at the sight of Russ still there. Russ looked up and muted the football game he'd been watching. "Hey, sleepyhead." He greeted, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Something smells good. Did you cook?" Milt queried.

"Yeah, my famous vegetable beef stew. You hungry yet?" Russ asked as he got up and stretched.

"I am now." Milt smiled; though Russ noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes.

He steered his injured friend into a chair at the table, taking care not to hurt the injured shoulder as he did so. After parking Milt at the table, he filled two bowls with the delicious smelling stew, sliced the bread, and brought it all back to the table. Both men ate in silence, the only sound their spoons clinking gently against the bowls. When they'd both finished, Russ took the bowls, rinsed them, and placed them in the dishwasher. He filled a glass of water and shook the prescribed dose of pills into his palm before he handed both to Milt who took them and drained the glass. Russ retrieved the empty glass and placed it in the dishwasher as well.

"You wanna head into the living room and watch a game or something?" He inquired.

"Sure." Milt replied, standing carefully and walking stiffly into the adjoining room. He gingerly sat down in the recliner and leaned back.

Russ followed suit, sinking onto the couch and grabbing the remote. He turned on the TV, which was now playing a college basketball game. He turned to Milt, "Basketball okay?"

Milt nodded tiredly as he leaned his head back to rest on the cushion behind him. They watched the game in silence until Russ noticed that the younger man had drifted off to sleep. He debated waking him up and sending him to bed, but decided Milt looked comfortable enough where he was. He stood and placed a blanket over the sleeping form before he turned off the TV and stretching out on the couch.

He was woken sometime later by an unidentified sound. He looked around in alarm until his gaze fell on Milt. The blanket had fallen off and he was shaking his head minutely as his brow creased and he uttered another small, anguished "No, no."

Russ crossed the space separating them and lightly shook Milt's shoulder. "Hey, man, wake up it's just a dream." Milt's eyes flew open and darted around the room in confusion before they landed on Russ and cleared slightly. "You okay there?" Russ asked, concern coloring his tone.

Milt cleared his throat, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a nightmare, I'm good."

"You wanna talk about it?" Russ offered.

"No, thank you, but I'm perfectly fine. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, Russ." He replied with a small and entirely unconvincing smile.

"'Night Milt." Russ responded as a look of concern settled on his features as he watched Milt shuffle off to his bedroom and shut the door. He stared after him for a moment, thinking. _"There's no way that kid's actually okay,"_ Russ laid back down, _"but I can't help him if he won't accept it. Doesn't mean I'm about to give up trying."_ He promised himself. He decided there was nothing more he could do for the moment, so he closed his eyes and got comfortable while still keeping his ears alert for any sounds of distress from the closed bedroom door.

* * *

Milt closed the door and leaned against it in complete exhaustion. It wasn't just the wound, though it certainly didn't help. No, his weariness ran much deeper than that. He hadn't ever forgiven himself for what had happened to those two boys five years ago. The ceaseless guilt and the effort he put into keeping up a happy front for everyone else left him feeling burned out. Their deaths haunted his dreams relentlessly.

He moved away from the door and folded back the covers, and lowered himself gingerly onto the mattress. He eased his aching body into a horizontal position and pulled the covers up. Russ' new attitude confused him. Before this whole mess had come to light, they'd been slowly developing a friendship and mutual trust. Despite the detective's initial resentment and hostility, Milt had found himself looking up to the older man almost like the older brother he'd never had. Now, he seemed to be actually, genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. The sudden warmth bewildered him. Part of him was wondering if this was a trick; get him to open up and then throw it back in his face. But the greater part believed that Russ was being sincere.

He sighed heavily; staring up at the ceiling as his mind tormented him with the nagging question, _"What if he isn't?"_ The doubt plagued him. _"Besides, why would he possibly care about me? Especially after he knows what I've done. How could anyone stand to even be around me?"_ A lone tear trickled down his temple. _"If this is all a trick, worrying about it's not going to change anything,"_ he thought with resignation as he drifted to sleep once again.

 _Milt stood over the bodies of the two teens as their sightless eyes stared up at him accusingly from the metal slabs in the county morgue. "I'm sorry," his voice seemed unnaturally loud in the somber room, "I'm so, so sorry."_

 _The two figures suddenly sat up. "Why?" they asked, "Why did you do this to us? We were just kids, we had our whole lives ahead of us." The boys spoke in unison, sounding eerily like the ghostly children he'd seen in a show once._

 _Milt tried to move, but his feet seemed to be encased in concrete. He could only shake his head and listen as tears of remorse ran down his face. "I never meant for any of this to happen. You have to believe me! I'm sorry. If I could change things I would." He insisted._

" _You killed us!" the boys shouted angrily._

" _No," Milt shook his head, "no, I'm dreaming. It's just a dream. Wake up. No, NO." he yelled as the boys advanced menacingly toward him._

He shot awake and upright with a gasp to see Russ standing over him with a hand on his shoulder and a worried look on his face. "Easy there, bud. It's just me." He said gently. Milt caught his breath and surreptitiously wiped the tear tracks from his face as Russ switched on the lamp. "Don't even try to tell me you're okay." Russ warned, "I know you're not."

Milt carefully cleared his face of all expression. "I don't know what you're talking about. It was just a nightmare. I'm fine now." Milt denied. "Sorry for waking you up."

Russ sighed and moved his hand to the back of Milt's neck before squeezing gently. "Milt, I'm a detective and you've met my mother. I know when people are lying to me. You're not fine and we both know it. Why do you keep pretending that you are? Let me help you." Russ said, sitting down on the foot of the bed.

Milt's face hardened. "Why do you keep pretending that you care? You barely tolerated me before this whole mess! Why would you _possibly_ care now that you know what I've done?" he questioned.

"What you've done?" Russ repeated in astonishment, "You did your job, man. And it's not like I hated you, you just, I don't know, you irritated me. Wasn't your fault really; I was just being territorial. Maybe I didn't like you, but I also didn't hate you."

Milt looked down. "Well you should. I screwed up and I got two kids killed." his breath hitched, "They had their whole lives ahead of them, and now because of _me_ they're dead." He whispered brokenly.

"That's a load of crap." Russ replied bluntly. Milt's head shot up and he opened his mouth to argue, but the older man held up his hand. "Let me finish, will you?" Milt subsided reluctantly. "You and I both know that things happen in this job; things that are completely beyond our control. You didn't kill those kids, Milt. And you are _not_ responsible for their deaths." Milt tried to interrupt, but Russ cut him off again. "It was their choice to get involved with drugs, man. You didn't force them to do anything. There is _always_ a choice and they made the wrong one. It sucks, but you gotta trust me on this one buddy, it was not your fault."

Milt gave a shaky exhale. "Why?" he asked quietly, seemingly out of nowhere.

Russ' eyebrows came together in confusion. "Why, what?" he asked thrown by the non sequitur.

"Why are you here? Why are you telling me this? What does it matter to you if I blame myself? Why are you acting like you actually care?" Milt asked, voice breaking on the last sentence.

Russ scratched the back of his neck in discomfort. _"Man up, Agnew."_ He told himself silently, _"You did say whatever it took."_ Russ drew in a deep breath. "I'll admit, when you first got here I resented you." Milt's shoulders slumped. Russ placed a hand on his knee and shook him slightly. "Let me finish. As time went by, don't get me wrong, you still irritated me, but I started to see you more as a friend and less as an invader. I mean, you saved my life and if you hadn't pushed me, I probably never would've told Holly how I feel about her. I'm more grateful than I can say to have that woman, so thank you. And Milt, finding out why you came to Battle Creek, it didn't make me hate you. Just let me get to know you a little better and respect you a little more."

Milt gave a watery chuckle. "You respect me? Since when?" he asked, skepticism coloring his tone. But he couldn't quite crush the tiny bit of hope flaring in his chest. Maybe he did actually have a friend here after all.

Russ flicked his head, carefully avoiding any injuries. "I'm being serious." Milt studied him for any signs of deception but he found only sincerity, and a tiny smile graced his features.

"When you gave that guy your gun and just let him _shoot_ you; you scared the crap out of me. If this whole crapfest has made me realize one thing; it's that you're my friend and I care about you." Russ hesitated, _"In for a penny…"_ he thought. He met Milt's eyes. "You know, I was an only child, but, well, I've come to think of you as that annoying little brother I never had." Milt's eyes filled with tears. "And buddy, I can't think of anyone else I'd want that to be. I'm proud of you, man." He finished quietly.

At that simple reassurance, Milt's carefully built dam burst. He curled forward with the force of the pent up grief, guilt, and exhaustion as the tears and emotions that he'd been holding back for so long finally burst from their prison and made their down his face in a river of tears. Russ quickly got up and sat down next to him, pulling him into a solid embrace. "Shhh, it'll be okay. Just let it out, it'll be okay. I gotcha, just breathe. It'll be okay." Russ whispered as he held and rocked his grief-stricken brother.

Afterwards, neither could tell how long they sat there. Eventually, Milt's sobs quieted to occasional sniffs, but neither seemed in a hurry to let go. When Milt finally drifted into a peaceful and dreamless sleep, Russ laid him down and tucked the covers around the unconscious figure. He pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down, putting his feet up on the edge of the bed. He laid a hand on his brother's forearm. "From now on, I've got your back." He promised before settling in and drifting off to sleep, content to stand guard until morning.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Sooo, how was it? Virtual homemade cinnamon swirl bread to any one who can tell me which episodes the two Supernatural references are from... :) Thanks for reading and have an amazing day!**


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